'Roman—' She wanted to go to him, to hold him, to take the pain away. But even though the hope in her heart was a great and desperate thing, she knew it was too soon. She had to convince him that what he'd seen and heard back at Guy's flat wasn't what it must have seemed.
'Roman.' She repeated his name softly. 'There is a point. You do have an heir.' Unconsciously, her hand rested against her still-flat tummy, then dropped shakily back to her side as she registered the immediate and contemptuous curl of his mouth.
'You try to pass your lover's child off as mine? You insult me, senora'
‘The baby is not Guy's!'
'Nor mine. You were protected by the contraceptive pill when we were—were together. Or have you, too, very conveniently forgotten you told me that? Do you take me for a fool?' His fists were clenched at his sides, a white line of temper around his mouth. 'I saw you together with my own eyes. Barely dressed. I heard what he said. You were living with him. Well, senora, you may go right back to him, with my blessing!'
Shakily, she passed a hand over her burning forehead. This was her worst nightmare. But, unlike a nightmare, she knew she wouldn't wake and leave the horrors behind.
They would stay with her until the end of her days.
Weariness swamped her. It had been a long, long day. The flight out to Jerez, the seemingly endless drive, hither and thither. And nothing accomplished. Zilch. Zero. He would never believe she loved him; more than anything in the world she loved him...
Even if she told him?
She filled her lungs with much needed oxygen. She had to make him believe her. She had to! 'Roman—I always loved you. I've never made love with any other man, despite what you thought. I was able to express my love for you physically because I'd finally grown up, begun to rate myself as a human being—a woman. And I believe—' she dragged in a shaky breath '—that you had finally learned to love me, too.'
She couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see the cynical disbelief in his eyes which would mean she'd failed. She began to pace the floor, nervous energy overcoming her tiredness, making her restless.
'I'd hoped you'd tell me you wanted me to stay beyond the three months you'd stipulated. Hoped you wanted to make our marriage work as much as I did. But you said I was free to go. I took it that I was no longer any use to you because you'd just heard that Delfina had got herself engaged. What else was I to think?
'Thanks to you, my old flat above Cindy's shop was no longer available. I had nowhere to stay. Guy offered to put me up until I got back on my feet. Against my better judgement, I accepted. I don't know why he said the things he did. Only that—'
'He's in love with you,' Roman injected blankly. 'Unfortunately.'
Silence. She had her back to him; he wasn't responding to her declarations of love. She had opened her heart and he could say nothing in return. Because he thought she was lying?
There was nothing left for her to say except, 'Later, a paternity test can be arranged. It will prove beyond any doubt that you are the father of my child.'
Tears clogged her throat. That it should come down to this. A clinical procedure when, in a perfect world, all it needed was love. And trust.
But this wasn't a perfect world. And very few people in it were free of imperfections.
And still the silence was deafening. He had decided that what he had felt for her wasn't worth the hassle. He could do without her.
But could he do without his child?
The thought of the tiny, precious life within her tore her apart. She pressed her fingertips to her throbbing temples and reached the hardest, most painful decision of her life.
'When you're satisfied that the baby is yours, then I will hand him or her over to you. To your safekeeping. Hang on to your heritage for the sake of your heir. I'll—' her voice faltered, the words choking her. But she knew it had to be this way, there wasn't any other.
It would kill her to give up her baby—all the joy in the world would end for her on that dreadful day— but she loved Roman far too much to allow him to be deprived of the child he had always wanted to carry on his name.
'I'll ask only one thing. To be kept...informed... of progress. I'll keep out of the way, never interfere. The occasional photograph... would be welcome.'
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
'Cass.' His voice was harsh. 'Do you know what you're saying?'
He was standing behind her now. Not near enough to touch. But she could feel his warmth, the strength and sheer male vitality of him.
She shuddered convulsively, wanting him to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. Knowing he wouldn't.
'Yes.' It was as much as she could do to get the word out. Her whole body felt as if it were wired to a detonator. Any moment now she could disintegrate, fragment into a million ragged pieces.
'Why?' A heartbeat of silence. Then, 'You do not want our child? You want to be rid of it?' he asked, ice in his voice.
At last he believed the baby was his. Because she'd offered the solution of a paternity test? She folded her arms tightly around her body, trying to hold herself together.
'Of course I want my child! Damn you!' The emotional protestation was torn from her, her voice high and hard, splintering the soft warm air. How could he think that of her? Why was he so cruelly intent on thinking the very worst of her?
'Then why would you give your baby away? To me? Cass, I need to know,' he persisted, his voice low, deeper than she had ever heard it.
Her shoulders were held high, rigid with tension, with the effort of keeping herself together. He touched her then, lightly massaging the knots along her collarbone, and the touch of the hands that had brought so much magic into her life for such a brief time was almost her undoing. 'Tell me,' he insisted quietly.
'You—you could give our child a far better quality of life than I ever could,' she said raggedly, wanting to get this over before she broke down completely. 'But that's—that's not the most important consideration.'
Her voice roughened, every word she said seeming to distance her from the new life she carried. 'The dynasty your family founded, the sense of history and pride that you seem intent on throwing away is your child's birthright. Having an heir would stop you from making the greatest mistake of your life— turning your back on your heritage because of the bad memories I made for you. I can't let you do that! Don't you see?'
Reined-in sobs were building up pressure in her chest; it was getting more and more difficult to control the misery that was overwhelming her. 'I know—know you would love our child. Believe me, I wouldn't be doing this if I had any doubts about
that.'
Her slight shoulders shook, her hands flying to cover her face as the pent-up sobs finally escaped. She had made her decision and it had been the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. She'd said what had to be said. The only pity was she hadn't been able to walk away from this traumatic scene with some kind of dignity.
Why couldn't he love her as much as she knew he would love their child? Why had whatever it was he had felt for her turned into bitterness? Why, when he surely must have accepted the truth of what she'd told him—that she had always loved him, that there had never been any other man for her?
He said nothing. By now his very silence told her that the quite obviously tenuous feelings he'd once had for her were now well and truly dead. But he did turn her gently round, enfolding her loosely within the circle of his arms, allowing her head to droop forward against the broad expanse of his chest. Just as anyone with an ounce of compassion in their make-up would offer brief comfort to another distraught human being. She wouldn't let herself read any more into it than that.
'Cass,' he said moments later, one of his hands straying to her hair, the other still clasped loosely around her waist. 'Enough. Getting rid of tension's all very well. Too much weeping will harm you and our baby.'
That effectively stopped the feeble outpourings, stiffened her spine. Of course.
The baby she was carrying would be his prime consideration.
She lifted her head from his thoroughly wettened shirt, 'I have no intention of harming my baby! So don't worry—getting an heir was the only reason you married me in the first place, other than getting your family off your back. You've won on both counts. Just don't—don't rub it in!'
She wasn't going to cry again. She was not! What was done was done, by her own decree. Now she had to learn to live with it. Somehow.
'Shh. Stop torturing yourself. You will make yourself ill.' He lifted her bodily and carried her to the huge double bed, stacking the pillows carefully behind her, one hand holding her down as she tried to scramble to her feet again.
'Be still,' he commanded gently, and the fight went out of her, utter tiredness seeping into her bones. 'You are quite right,' he told her as she slumped back against the pillows.
Keeping his eyes on her troubled, tear-stained face, he bent over her to remove her shoes, then sat on the edge of the mattress and eased his fingers through her long tousled hair, gently removing the few remaining pins. 'I have won. You stole something from me and now you have brought it back.'
'What?' she demanded truculently. She disliked this new mood of consideration and caring as much as she disliked his earlier stiff silences.
He was only concerned about the baby she'd promised to give over to him. If she hadn't been pregnant he would have probably told her to go jump in the wide waters of the Guadalquiver. 'I've never
taken a thing from you—don't mix me up with my twin!'
She didn't want to be here; she wanted to be somewhere else. Somewhere dark and private where she could lick her wounds and try to come to terms with the promise she'd made him.
And she didn't want him to see her in this state; overemotional, her face red and puffy from crying, her hair a mess, the linen jacket and trousers crumpled, spotted with the coffee stains that had resulted from her tussle with the recalcitrant top of the flask Roy had filled for her.
'You stole my happiness,' he told her softly. 'My pride in my heritage—just about everything that made life worthwhile.' He took her hands in his, lifting them to his lips, his kisses as light as butterfly wings on her knuckles. 'And now you have brought it back.' He raised his head, his features solemn.
'And you are right again. I needed an heir. But that was not the reason I married you. I felt this great affection for you, my Cass. I had this huge urge to protect you and care for you. This I had never felt for any other woman. I knew—well, I hoped—that you had a fondness for me, too.
'But sexually, you didn't want to know. It used to tear me apart because at that time I didn't understand it. So I used to absent myself for long periods of time. It was only when you went away that first time that I realised how much I loved you—despite the way our marriage had turned out.'
'My fault!' she blurted miserably, hating her younger self. She'd been such a timid fool back then. But was she just as big an idiot now, going out of her mind, hearing things she so desperately wanted to hear? Or did he really, truly mean he had once loved her?
'No!' he countered vehemently. 'Mine entirely. But we're not going to argue about it. All that's over, it is—what do you say in your country?—water under the bridge. What matters now is what we make of our future.'
Cassie bit down on her wobbly lower lip, then asked bluntly, because she just had to know. 'You do want me, as well as the baby? You do believe I have never made love with any other man?'
'Cass—' He drew in a long breath. 'I believe you implicitly.' His eyes softened. They suddenly looked suspiciously moist. 'You were willing to make the biggest sacrifice a woman can make, for my sake,' he said emotionally. 'That told me how much you love me; it made my unworthy suspicions ridiculous. The depth of your love humbles me, querida.'
He stood up, his mood changing abruptly. 'You are exhausted, my Cass. I am going to take very great care of you. That is my first duty. Tomorrow, I will make an immediate appointment for you to see an obstetrician—one of the best. I will, of course, accompany you. I will be with you every step of the way through this pregnancy. But now I will run a bath, and while you relax in warm water I will make you hot milk. And you will eat?'
His dark brows furrowed. 'In your mad dash around the countryside I don't suppose you thought of food,' he accused, planting his feet apart. 'You must take better care of yourself, and if you won't do it, then I must,' he-stated firmly. 'Teresa and Manuel don't return until tomorrow—a family birthday celebration. She left me things that are probably too spicy for your condition. You will like a good plain omelette—'
'Stop!' Cassie wriggled round onto her knees, her eyes wet with emotional tears, her mouth curving in a tender smile. Roman had never looked or sounded so utterly Spanish as he did at this moment. And so determined to get things right.
'Pamper me if you must—I'm not complaining! But eating's low on my list of priorities at the moment.' She held out her hands to him. 'Forget your duty, just for a minute, and come and talk to me. Tell me, did you mean it—about realising you really did love me when—?'
'When you left me. I was utterly shattered. I couldn't believe how empty I felt.' He sucked in his lower lip, and it was the first time she had seen him appear indecisive. 'You are sure you are up to more talk?'
He capitulated gladly at her bright-eyed nod and moved back towards her, his own eyes soft as he took her outstretched hands in his. 'My instinct was to drag you back, so that we could sit down together, somewhere away from my family, and try to find out what had turned our marriage into a disaster zone.'
Sitting on the side of the bed, he held her hands against his chest. 'But the sensible side of me said that would be wrong. From what I knew of your past, and my misguided handling of you during our marriage, all your life you'd been told what to do, pushed into being what other people wanted you to be. You needed time to get to know yourself.'
He smiled gently into her bright, tear-spangled eyes. 'I kept a watching brief—and one day I'll tell you how I did this—and told myself to be patient for one year. Then I would come for you, and bring you flowers and perfume and jewels. And my love. And woo my bride back to me.'
'But I came to you first,' she murmured thoughtfully.
If Roy hadn't stolen that money, she wouldn't have gone to Roman; he would have come to her. To woo her back to him. She wouldn't have been able to resist him, she knew she wouldn't, because he had always been all she had ever wanted. So much misery would have been avoided.
'That was when the sensible part of me went on holiday.' He leant over and kissed the end of her nose. 'I'd expected to see a change in you, but the extent of it took me by surprise. You'd regained all that lost weight, lost the haunted look that used to worry me so much—you had poise, confidence. You did not look like a woman who would be easily wooed—not unless you wanted to be, and I was sure at that stage that you did not. So I got this crazy idea of using blackmail and later deeply regretted it. It was so unworthy.'
Cassie wriggled forward, snuggling into his side. She was home; she and her baby were loved and wanted. 'Which was why,' she said, smothering a yawn, 'you were so stiff and proper when you told me I was free to go. I thought—'
'I know what you thought,' he said gravely. 'But you couldn't have been further from the truth. I had to give you the choice—no pressure. I wanted, with all my heart, to hear you say you wanted to stay with me. And now I know you will.'
'Always,' she responded sleepily, her bright head drooping into the hollow of his shoulder. 'Tell me you love me.'
'I love you.' She heard the smile in his voice. 'So much so, I knew I had to go far away from memories if I wanted to stay sane,' he murmured against her hair. 'Now all that is over—and for you,' he went on briskly, 'bath, bed and food.'
He lifted her effortlessly and she looped her arms around his neck. 'No food. It's very late and I'm too sleepy to eat.' The truth was, she didn't want to let him out of her sig
ht. If she did, she would begin to think this was all a dream.
She gave an enormous yawn to prove her point and he shot her a frowning look of concern as he flicked on the light in the en suite and slid her down the length of his body, steadying her with one hand, turning on the taps to fill the bath with the other.
The water gushing, steam misting the marble walls, he slid her crumpled jacket from her shoulders, revealing the pretty lace bra that barely constrained her full, creamy breasts. She heard the rough, urgent tug of his breath and smiled softly as she suggested huskily, 'Why don't you join me?'
'Believe me—' he ran a finger slowly down the inviting indentation of her cleavage '—there is nothing in the world I would enjoy more.' There were pinpoints of searing light in the smoky depths of his eyes and a wry smile tugged at the corners of his long, sensual mouth as he added dryly, 'But it would be a very bad idea. You need to rest. One thing would lead to another and neither of us would get any sleep at all, you understand me?'
Only too well, she thought, already swaying on her feet as he turned off the taps and tested the water. But it would have been heavenly...
Cassie stirred lazily beneath the soft covers. It was dawn. A new day. A new beginning. A contented smile curved her soft lips.
She could only dimly remember climbing out of the scented bath water, Roman stepping forward to smother her in a huge towel, gently patting her dry.
Her overnight bag was still in the hall. It had seemed too much effort to ask him to bring it to her. Besides, he had gathered her into his arms and slid her, boneless and naked, between the silky sheets...
And now he slept beside her, his tough features relaxed and almost vulnerable, his soft dark hair rumpled, his jaw darkly stubbled. Her heart lurched with tenderness as she stretched out a hand to touch him.
He, too, was naked. Her smile was wicked now, her amber eyes glinting as she wriggled closer and wrapped her arms around him, glorying in the sensation of loving and being loved in return.
Claiming His Wife Page 12
